I Don't Really Know How to be Anything Else
by moosefish
Summary: Fluffy SoMa AU. Shibusen is a performing arts school, where Soul is a brilliant pianist and Maka is a clumsy dancer. On-going. Cover image is taken from the manga. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1: Meeting

**A/N:** So it's been a couple of years since I've posted anything, and I recently got into the Soul Eater manga and anime...and now I'm obsessed with SoMa. This is a little idea that came to me one day and I decided to see where it went. Hoping to write a few more chapters of this. Enjoy. Also, I don't own Soul Eater or any of the characters.

* * *

He was rudely awoken from his nap by a loud bang.

Soul "Eater" Evans had only been trying to skip his music theory class and catch up on missed sleep. His best friend, Black Star, had been up to his usual antics, which, unfortunately for Soul, included his presence. They usually didn't do much in particular, and last night hadn't been anymore eventful than any other. It had mostly involved Soul sitting in the convenience store parking lot while Black Star made a fool of himself.

He'd wedged himself between two sets of lockers in the hall, his headphones in and jazz music blaring. He snapped his eyes open, searching for the source of the noise.

His gaze met with a short, skinny girl. Her forehead was leaning against the locker, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Oi."

The girl jumped and looked over at Soul. She had shiny, ashy blonde hair that was pulled tightly and securely into a bun on the crown of her head, and salmon-pink tights on underneath her uniform. She was clearly from the dance faction of Shibusen.

Shibusen School of Performing Arts was the school that Soul attended. It was one of the best schools in the country for dance, drama and music. Most of the students were accepted into Shibusen from an audition of their choice. The standard was high and competition was fierce. Only the best of the best were accepted. Soul was a musician; a pianist. He came from a long line of musicians, and his entry had almost been guaranteed thanks to his family's reputation. Soul knew he wasn't like the rest of his family, like his parents, and especially not his brother Wes.

Wes had graduated from Shibusen last year, and this was Soul's first year. He was glad he didn't have to face Wes at school, but it didn't stop the teachers and the other students from comparing him to Wes. He was just living in his brother's shadow, and there was no way he was as talented as his violinist brother. Soul had gotten by for so long purely on his training. But he knew there was only so far exceptional training could get you.

He was often talked about by the other students. Soul pretended he didn't hear the whispers and hushed voices of the other students. They wondered how he'd gotten in, when he clearly wasn't up to the same standard as his brother. They resented him, and how he hadn't even had to try to get into Shibusen. He agreed with them. He hadn't earned his place here – he had no reason to be here.

Different streams didn't usually interact much. However, most of the other dancers that Soul had seen at the school were giggly, silly little girls. Soul often ignored their whispers and pointing fingers as he shuffled past them. This girl, however, had steely, determined eyes; which were widened in surprise at his presence. Eyes that were the brightest shade of green that he'd ever seen.

She caught herself quickly, her eyes narrowing once she had discovered the source of her interruption.

"What do you want?" she said coldly, looking away from him. She turned her attention to her locker.

"Hey," he said, holding his hands up in defence. "_You_ disturbed _my _nap."

She flicked him an expression of annoyance and didn't reply. She sniffed, and tried to subtly wipe her cheek. That's when he realised that she'd been crying.

"Shouldn't you be in class or something?" He asked, a little more softly.

"Shouldn't _you_?" she shot back, her voice acidic.

Soul smirked at the audacity of this girl. He leaned back against the wall. "Well, you got me there. I'm skipping."

She didn't seem impressed and continued to ignore him, her mouth pressed in a hard line. She started emptying her locker with a new ferocity.

"C'mon," he said. "Your turn."

She sighed loudly, focusing her eyes on the pair of pointe shoes in her hand. Her slim fingers ran over the shiny satin delicately, almost as if she were caressing them. Gently, she wound the ribbons around the shoes and tucked them into a small, flowery bag.

"I got thrown out of class," she said quietly.

"Oh," his smile widening lazily. "I do love a bad girl."

Soul learnt very quickly that this girl was stronger than she looked. He nursed a bump on his head as the girl stalked away with her bag slung over her shoulder, her nose high in the air. Soul watched her retreating back, and it was an image of her that didn't leave his mind for many years.

* * *

The next time Soul saw her, he was walking down the hallway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His music performance class was always pretty boring – he had never found much interest in watching other people perform. However, he did have to improve his attendance record. His parents hadn't been pleased with the numbers of calls home.

And so, once again, he was awoken from his daze with a loud noise. However, this time, it was the sound of tap shoes against the tiles of the hallway, accompanied by the sounds of high-pitched girly giggling.

He turned his neck to see a group of thirteen-year-olds exiting from a classroom. Many of them were tall and slim, with their hair neatly pulled back. However, he did glimpse a flash of bright emerald from the back of the crowd. Her face was flushed and sweaty with exertion, and she walked barefooted, holding a pair of tap shoes in her hands. Her ashy blonde hair was tied up in two pigtails, one slightly lopsided and falling out. Gently, she squeezed past her classmates quietly, trying to go unnoticed.

"Hey, Albarn!" One girl called to her.

Soul had seen this girl around school, and boy, was she trouble. She was beautiful, and she was fully aware of that. She had short, pink hair and aqua eyes that seemed to be able to read every single one of your secrets. She was brilliant at manipulation. Soul was pretty sure her name was Kim Diehl.

She didn't reply to Kim, instead continuing to walk down the hall with her head bowed.

"Hey, Albarn!" she repeated. "I'm talking to you."

She stopped in the middle of the hall, clutching her shoes even harder. She still didn't reply.

"Pretty spectacular stack you had in class there." Kim grinned, her friend sniggering next to her. "I knew you were uncoordinated, but jeez, that's a whole new level."

A small tear escaped the girl's eye, and she restrained herself from wiping it away. She looked up, catching Soul's gaze. Her green eyes widened with fear when she saw him.

"You know," continued Kim, walking towards her. "It's pretty rude of you to ignore your senpai."

"Oi," he said. "That's not very cool of you."

Kim's attention flicked to Soul, who was standing next to her now. Kim smirked at him, and returned her gaze to the girl next to him.

"Ooh, Albarn," she cooed. "Got yourself a bodyguard."

Soul continued to glare at her. Kim shrugged. "Okay. See you 'round, then."

Soul watched them leave, and then turned to the girl next to him. "You alright?"

She sniffed, wiping her cheek quickly. "Of course I am," she said haughtily, refusing to look at him, and was instead staring at the tiled floor. "I don't need your help."

Soul sighed, then shrugged. "Alright. 'Later, then." He turned his back to her.

"Wait," she said.

He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"I didn't get your name," she said softly.

Soul smiled to himself. "I'm Soul. And you are?"

"Maka," she said. "Maka Albarn."

"Well, it's been cool to meet you, Maka." He said, and continued down the hall, away from her.

"Hey, Soul," she called.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

**A/N:** Hopefully that wasn't too bad!


	2. Chapter 2: A Change of Pace

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who favourited! Here is the next chapter, enjoy!

* * *

"YAHOO!"

Soul just sighed and focused on the road in front of him. His best friend, Black Star, was yelling and waving his fist around from behind him. They were on Soul's brand new bright orange motorcycle – a generous gift from his brother. As soon as Black Star had heard of the gift, he immediately wanted to take it for a test drive. It was top-of-the line: nothing less than expected from an Evans. It glided around corners perfectly and he didn't feel like he would lose control, not even when going fast. Soul knew his parents would hate it, which is exactly why he'd wanted one. They'd say it was 'common' and 'unbecoming of a young man'. Wes understood his brother's desire to rebel, to not be associated with the family. Soul knew Wes cared for him, but he couldn't help resenting him, despite this fact.

The houses of Death City whipped past in a blur of colour as they raced through the streets. His white hair was whipping around his head like a halo. Soul began to slow down once he saw the approaching lights of the convenience store. It had begun to get dark, and the street lights were just flickering on. He knew that if he'd still been living with his parents, he would have had a stern lecture waiting for him at home.

He stopped the motorcycle, and Black Star jumped off.

"That was awesome!" he yelled. He didn't seem to have a softer tone, Soul had noticed. "Your brother is so cool, dude!"

He just shrugged. "It's just my family being my family. They don't like to talk to me, but giving me presents seems to get rid of the guilt in their minds."

"But you get awesome stuff," Black Star said. "So everyone wins."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Everyone wins."

He knew his parents' expectations. He knew everybody's expectations. Soul felt guiltier every time his family did something like this, knowing that he'd never quite meet those expectations. He didn't mention this to Black Star, though. Hanging out with him tended to make him forget about his responsibilities.

"Man, I'm hungry. Let's go, Soul." Black Star announced loudly. He turned and marched straight into the convenience store, just like he had a million times. Begrudgingly, Soul followed.

Soul walked over to where the drinks were stored, and considered the choices before him. His favourite energy drink was where it always was, in a bright green can on the second shelf. His mind began to wander slightly, and when he came to, he realised he'd been thinking of Maka. Of her green eyes. He shook his head, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

_I should really sleep more_. He opened the fridge door and reached for the can, and let the door slam shut. He turned and scanned the store quickly, looking for the bright turquoise of his friend's hair. He was down the other end of the shop, near the pie warmers. His brow was furrowed, as if he were concentrating. Soul walked over to him.

"Don't strain yourself," Soul said. "Your one brain cell might explode."

"How many pies do you think I could eat before I threw up?" he asked suddenly.

"I dunno. I could probably beat you, though."

"No way. I'm a god. You can't defeat me."

Soul snorted. "Okay, then. Whoever can eat the most without puking gets to drive the motorcycle home."

"You're on." He said, rubbing his hands together. "Prepare to lose, Soul."

"Don't get too cocky." Said Soul, sliding the plastic door open and reaching for the pies. There was no way that this would end well for either of them.

* * *

Maka Albarn spent her evenings in an entirely different way. Most afternoons, she would stay at the school. She would stay until closing time, sometimes practicing, sometimes completing homework for her theory classes in the library.

Then, after she'd been kicked out, she'd walk the long way home, back to the apartment she shared with her father. Her father, Spirit Albarn, was the source of a fair amount of pain for the teenager. Many people were envious of her position – daughter of a famous, well-esteemed musician, who worked for the school. He also worked at Death City's official performing arts company, but preferred to spend most of his time working with the students at Shibusen. This was, as Maka believed, mainly because he was good friends with the school's principal, and because he wanted to be closer to his daughter.

Maka, however, had very little respect for her father. Her parents' divorce had been due to his cheating ways, and he often tried to atone for this by trying to "look after" her. She called it smothering. However, she knew his intentions were good. He just wasn't very good at the whole 'actions' things.

She would have preferred to live with her mother, but presently, that wasn't an option. Her mother had been very young when she'd had Maka, and still had a few years of her dancing career left. As much as Maka knew her mother loved her, she knew that she loved to dance more than anything. Maka understood this and aspired to one day be as brilliant as her mother. She had a long way to go.

She often told herself not to be _too_ disheartened. She had been accepted into Shibusen. Although, she knew that it was partly because of who her parents were. Maka almost resented them a little; but she knew she shouldn't. She couldn't help who her parents were.

This evening, when she walked back alone, she noticed the first change in the weather. It was cooler tonight, and she knew now that autumn was approaching. It wasn't completely black yet, but the sky had crept into a dark blue. She could see some of the street lights beginning to flicker on. She could hear the afternoon cries of magpies throughout Death City, and a cool, gentle breeze ruffled her pigtails. She lifted her chin to the sky, and pulled her coat around her tightly. It wasn't the kind of cold you could hate, though. It was pleasant. It somehow seemed transitionary – as if it were promising a change. Maka could do with a change.

* * *

"Too many…pies…" Black Star groaned.

"I didn't even think there was such a thing." Soul moaned beside him. He was sitting on the curb outside of the convenience store, clutching his stomach in pain. Soul had stopped after six pies but Black Star had managed to eat five more than him.

"You know…what this means," he said into the concrete. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

"Black Star," Soul puffed. "You're in no condition to drive my motorcycle."

He struggled to sit up, making a 'thumbs up' sign to his friend. "I can drive just fine."

Soul raised his eyebrows and stood up slowly, waiting to see if he would be hit by a wave of nausea. When none came, he straightened up, and turned to his pitiful friend on the ground below him. He bent down and grabbed him under his arms, and attempted to hoist him up.

"Jesus, Black Star, you're like a tonne of fucking bricks," Soul panted, dropping his friend back down on the concrete.

"You're just a weakling, Soul Eater. You can't lift my godly body."

"Need a hand?" a voice said from behind him.

Soul whipped around, searching for the owner of the voice. He recognised her instantly – ashy blonde pigtails and bright, wide eyes. She was wearing her school uniform and had her bag slung over her right shoulder, as well as a small plastic bag in her left hand.

Maka had stopped at the convenience store on the way home, craving chocolate milk. She clutched the bag to her body as she nervously awaited Soul's answer. She cursed herself internally – she wasn't even friends with him. He probably thought she was a major loser, anyway.

"Uh," Soul stuttered. "Sure." He sounded dubious – she was tiny. How on earth would she lift Black Star?

"Okay," Maka said, dropping her bag on the ground and placing the plastic bag on top of it. She rolled up the sleeves of her school blazer and walked to Black Star's left side, opposite to Soul. With all her might, she managed to lift him off the concrete. Soul wrapped one of Black Star's arms around his neck and Maka did the same.

_Whoa, she's stronger than she looks_.

Slowly, they brought him over to the motorcycle, while Black Star groaned. They reached Soul's motorcycle, and Maka let go, letting Black Star lean against the motorcycle, still supported by Soul.

"Thanks," said Soul.

"No problem," she said, rolling her shoulders. "I just hope your friend is okay."

"Black Star?" Soul snorted. "He's a complete idiot. He'll be fine. In fact, I hope it'll teach him _not to eat eleven pies_."

Black Star moaned in response and gave Maka a thumbs-up and a weak grin. Maka just gave him a disapproving look.

"Is that your motorcycle?" Maka asked, her eyebrows raised in disapproval. "Are you alright to drive that with _him?_ It doesn't look very...safe."

"Yeah, it's fine," he said. "My brother gave it to me."

"Oh, right," she said, taking her eyes off the offensive orange bike. "Your brother's Wes, right? My dad loves his work."

"Unfortunately," Soul confirmed.

"He seems like a nice guy," Maka prompted.

"He is," Soul said shortly. Maka stared at him, as if she were waiting for an explanation. She shifted uncomfortably when Soul just stared back, not giving her an answer.

"So…?"

"It's none of your business." He snapped.

"Right," she said eventually, looking a little hurt. "Well, I've got to get home. My dad is waiting for me and he freaks out if I'm home too late."

"Yeah," said Soul, feeling a little bad for not answering her question. "I've got to get this idiot home. Later, Maka."

"See you at school, then." She replied, walking back over to her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She turned her back to him and began the walk home.

Soul stared after her for a moment, guilt swelling in his chest. Black Star moaned again, and he decided an apology could wait until tomorrow. He didn't really want to be puked on by Black Star. He sat on the motorcycle and slung his friend on his back, kicking the motorcycle into gear.


	3. Chapter 3: Similarities

**A/N:** This chapter's a little shorter than the rest, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

* * *

"Oi, Maka!" He had been waiting near her locker the next morning, hoping to catch her before class. The hallway was fairly packed, with people running back and forth, people sitting on the floor, trying to finish their homework before class started. It was loud, and Soul disliked it. He knew he wouldn't have been able to find her just by chance, and decided to wait for her.

"Oh," she said, eyes widening in surprise at the figure in front of her. She'd had her head down, her eyes looking at the floor, and hadn't noticed him waiting for her. "Hey, Soul. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to apologise for being rude yesterday," he said.

"It's no big deal, Soul." She said, focusing on entering the combination into her locker.

"No," he said. "Cool guys shouldn't act like that."

"Um," she said, yanking her locker door open. She began emptying books from her bag into her locker, and trading them for various types of dance shoes. A high-pitched laugh sounded from behind Maka, and the owner of the voice approached the locker next to Maka's. Loudly, she punched her code in, and grabbed a pair of shoes that were inside her locker. Maka waited for the girl to leave before replying, not wanting to draw attention to herself. "Apology accepted, I guess."

He didn't move from his spot. "It's just, people don't really see me. They see me as my brother, and…I'm not Wes."

Maka looked over to him, meeting his eyes. "That must really suck, Soul."

"I'm sure you understand," he said. "Your parents are Kami and Spirit Albarn."

She shrugged. "Yeah, it kinda sucks sometimes. But you don't really get to choose your family, so I can't really bring myself to resent them for that."

Soul gave her a half-smile. He knew she was sincere when she said that, but he also knew that believing what you knew was right was difficult. Emotions were tricky, nasty things; even if you didn't want them to be. He thought of it like toffee. They were sweet and innocent from a distance, but when you finally got closer to them, you realised just how messy and sticky they could be, and just how long it took to alter them to something that you could manage.

"But you do. I can tell you do." he said softly.

"How?"

"You don't really have any friends," he said.

"Neither do you." she shot back.

"I do have friends."

"What, like your friend last night? He seems like an intelligent guy." She said sarcastically.

"Maka," he said, exasperated. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant…You're afraid of people comparing you to them. Afraid of not being able to meet their expectations."

"Is that why you skip class?" she said suddenly, her cheeks going slightly red. She softened for a bit. She didn't understand how someone she'd just met could almost read her mind; could see straight through her like glass. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She didn't usually like having people this close to her.

"What?"

She turned to look him in the eye. "When we met, you were skipping class."

He shrugged. "I don't like class."

"Why not?"

"It's boring, I guess."

"I guess I just…don't feel like I should be here," he admitted. "At Shibusen. Everyone just wants me to be a clone of Wes," he said. "That's why I even got into this school. Not because I was any good. People don't like my stuff, Maka."

He didn't meet her gaze while he said this, instead choosing to stare at his shoes. He was embarrassed by this confession, and he didn't want Maka to think he was some sappy, uncool guy.

"I guess we're kind of alike, then." She said eventually.

"Yeah," he agreed, leaning back against the locker. "I guess we are."

* * *

Maka and Soul fell into a sort of routine. He'd wait for her by her locker, they'd walk to classes together, they'd spend lunch together, walk to the convenience store on the way home. It was nice, having this unspoken agreement between them. Most of the time, neither of them talked about their respective talents. It was strange for both of them to have become friends with someone who knew nothing about what they'd dedicated their lives to. Maka knew Soul would be confused if she talked about dancing, and she didn't particularly want to. She liked that she had something in her life that wasn't about dancing, and he liked that she knew very little about music. It was like a breath of fresh air, a break from their constant anxieties. They didn't have to worry about being judged and rated on just these talents, but on _who_ they were.

They were two outcasts in a place where they were both supposed to belong – and neither of them minded where they'd finally found solace.


	4. Chapter 4: New Friends

**A/N: **I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but I did want to post something before I go on a three-month hiatus. So it will probably change sometimes in the future, but I did want to start introducing new characters. I have so many ideas for the direction of this, and I hope that later I can come back and fix it up.

* * *

Maka could hardly believe her eyes when she walked into the studio that morning. She was early, as usual; wanting to arrive before the other girls so she could warm up. Soul had already met her on the way to school, stopped at her locker, and continued with her to class. She didn't know where he waited before his class began, since they had nearly forty-five minutes before class started. Soul, however, met her everyday unfailingly. She'd opened the door, already thinking about which warm-ups she'd start with. She'd expected a quiet room, with the early morning sun streaming through the huge glass windows.

She hadn't counted on somebody already being there.

"No, Patti. Your hips are twisted. And your leg isn't the same height as your sister's," an exasperated voice said. "And your arm! Lower your back arm! You have to look _symmetrical_!"

"Sorry, Kiddo-kun," a girlish voice said. Maka watched the girl take all of these corrections on board and fixed herself quickly. Maka watched the two girls hold these positions, while a boy considered it. One of the girls was tall and lithe, with beautifully extended legs and emitted grace. Her turnout, too, was extraordinary – it looked so natural, and not forced. She had a perfectly centred blonde bun. However, the girl next to her, Patti, was slightly shorter and more curvaceous. Her legs weren't as long or graceful, but Maka could tell that she strong legs, and was probably a brilliant jumper. Her hair was too short to be swept up into a bun, and was instead pinned back into a half-up half-down style, tied with a bright red ribbon.

"Okay, relax," the boy said, turning away from the girls to his notes. The taller girl lowered her leg with ease and turned to face Patti. Patti too, turned; and caught sight of Maka in the doorway.

"Hello!" she squealed. "Are you a student here?"

"Uh," was all Maka could get out. The tall girl whipped her head around, eyeing Maka with caution. The boy, too lifted his head from his notebook, and squinted at her. Patti began to sprint over to her, but the boy held up a hand.

"Nobody move," he said. "I don't want it destroyed."

Maka just stared at him.

The boy came charging at her and grabbed her two pigtails. "So beautifully symmetrical!"

The tall girl facepalmed. Patti giggled.

She wasn't quite sure what to make of this boy as he obsessed over her twin tails. She could see that his eyes were a striking shade of gold; a colour Maka had never seen before. The colour highlighted the intensity of his gaze and matched his eye for detail. His hair was dark and swept across his forehead, except for three white horizontal stripes.

"Sorry," the tall girl said, approaching Maka. "You'll have to excuse Kid. He has a thing for symmetry."

Kid.

Death the Kid.

The principal's son.

Maka's eyes went wide. The rumours about this boy in the dance world were plentiful. He was brilliant, but a little bit strange. He was a fantastic dancer, and an even more fantastic choreographer. His eye for symmetry made all of his works unparalleled in perfection. Maka had seen one of his works not long ago, and indeed, it had been spectacular – especially for a seventeen-year-old.

Kid had stopped stroking her hair, but was still staring at her with glazed-over eyes. Liz put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Kid. Quit scaring the poor girl." she said.

Kid's eyes came back into focus, but he still looked at Maka with a certain amount of longing.

"It's lovely to meet you," he said, producing a hand. "Miss…?"

"Albarn," she said quickly. "Maka Albarn."

"Albarn?" Patti squeaked. "You're Spirit's daughter."

Maka nodded.

"We're joining your class!" said Patti excitedly. "I hope we become great friends, Maka-chan!"

Maka was surprised at this. Liz and Patti were definitely much older than her, and while Shibusen didn't really have an age restriction on the classes, most of the students here were young, due to the nature of performing arts. In the other factions, it was more common to have older students, but not in the dance faction.

"I discovered Liz and Patti while I was in New York," Kid explained. "They were in a small theatre, performing."

Liz snorted. "We were burlesque dancers."

"Yes, yes, whatever," Kid wove his hands like that was unimportant. "Anyway, I had to bring them back. There's so much potential."

"We were the only ones who could deal with his retardation."

"They were just what I had in mind for the end of the year," Kid continued dreamily, ignoring Liz. "But they still have a fair way to go before their technique is up to scratch. But their style…it's perfect."

He turned his attention back to Maka. "Miss Albarn, I'm sure you'd be a fine influence on Liz and Patti. You know what it is like to be a ballet student, and Shibusen, better than myself. My father never felt that it was appropriate for me to be here."

"I wonder why." Said Liz drily.

"Anyway, Liz, Patti," Kid continued. "And Maka, of course. Work hard."

And with those words, Kid exited the room.

"Um," Maka repeated.

"Oh, don't mind Kiddo-kun," said Patti, slinging an arm around her neck. "He's a little strange, but he means well. And, he's a genius."

"He certainly is," Liz agreed. She walked from her sister's side and approached the barre, placing one hand on it. She rotated her legs into first position, and Maka was amazed at how flat her turnout was. She raised her arm in second, and began to plie. Patti skipped over to her sister, and mimicked her actions.

Maka just kept staring.

"Well," Liz said. "What are you waiting for? A written invitation? Correct us."

"S-sure," said Maka, stunned. She dropped her bag in the corner, pulled her tights over her feet and pulled on her canvas ballet flats.

"Liz," she began tentatively. "Lower your arm. It creates a nicer line. But don't let your elbow droop."

She'd never taught anyone before, and for Maka, it was an experience to be on the other side. She warmed up to the role as they progressed through _batmane jetes _and _ron de jambes. _They continued like this for half an hour, and by then the rest of the girls had begun to show up for their 9 o'clock class.

* * *

Soul was bored. He was often bored in his music classes. He didn't really understand the point of being in these classes, because he didn't learn anything. But he'd been attending them more regularly as of late. Mainly because he knew Maka would probably hit him if she caught him skipping.

Naturally, as soon as his class ended, he couldn't leave fast enough. He walked quickly over to Maka's ballet class, the same studio that specific class was always in. He put his headphones in and sat down outside of the studio, waiting for it to finish.

At quarter past eleven, the door slammed open, and a gaggle of giggling girls spilled out. Soul lifted his head, scanning each face for the one he knew best. This time, it was accompanied by two new faces.

"Soul," Maka said softly. "This is Liz and Patti. Kid brought them here."

"Kid?" he asked. "As in Death the Kid?"

"Yeah," she said.

Soul looked surprised. "Alright, then."

"Liz, Patti," she continued. "This is my friend Soul."

"You aren't a dancer," Patti observed, taking Soul's scruffy appearance in.

"No," he said. "I'm a pianist. Soul Evans."

These girls weren't like anybody he'd met at Shibusen before. Their background was certainly colourful, and he found the sisters intriguing. Maka seemed to be fairly at ease around them, too and for that he was glad. Liz, beneath her tsundere exterior, was clearly very happy to be at Shibusen. And Patti, who seemed naïve, was highly intelligent.

The four of them had lunch together in the cafeteria, a place that Maka and Soul tended to avoid because of the number of people. But Liz and Patti didn't seem to mind, even though everyone stared and whispered at them as they walked in.

"So," said Soul. "New York, huh?"

"Yup," said Patti, taking a large bite out of her apple. "We lived there our whole lives."

"Must be pretty different here, then."

"It'll take a bit of getting used to," said Liz, focusing on pulling pieces of tomato out of her sandwich. She pinched them between her thumb and forefinger, and flicked them onto the plastic wrapping. Maka was still amazed at how daintily she did this, her long fingers thin and graceful.

"It's just _so_ nice here," Patti said excitedly. "We're staying with Kid, and jeez, his place his bigger than our whole apartment block back in New York."

"I've never been to New York," Maka said. "It seems like a really cool place."

"It is," said Liz. "If you know where to go."

Soul could see that she had really warmed up to Liz and Patti, and for that, he was glad. The three girls chatted as if they'd known each other their whole lives. Soul leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, when he caught sight of a strange boy. Determined gold eyes and a sharp black suit made him stand out among the young, scruffy students who were happily chatting away over their lunch. He knew he'd seen him somewhere before, but he didn't know where.

"…and wham! Liz knocked him out cold," Patti finished, waving her arms in the air. Liz looked a little smug as Patti told her story.

"Liz, Patti," Kid's cool, even voice floated from behind them.

"Kid," said Liz. "Time to go already?"

"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked, turning to Patti, who nodded exuberantly.

"We were just telling Maka-chan all about New York," she said.

"And _you_ are?" asked Kid, staring at Soul, taking in his scruffiness. He pulled a sour face.

"Soul Evans," he said quickly, running a hand through his white hair.

"Soul Evans," he said thoughtfully. "You're Wes' younger brother."

Soul just raised his eyebrows and ignored his last comment. "And you are?"

"Death the Kid." Said Kid smoothly. He leaned in closer to Soul, and raised his hand, ready to fix his offensive hair.

"Kid," said Liz quickly, taking his hand. "Don't you think it's time we left? I'm bored of school."

"Yeah," he said dreamily. "Good idea.I think I left the picture in the dining room slightly off-centre…" He trailed off and began to walk to the exit. Liz and Patti hurriedly picked up their bags and stood to follow him.

"See you tomorrow, Maka-chan, Soul-kun!" Patti smiled, waving them goodbye.

"See ya," Liz said shortly, and followed her sister.

"Well," said Soul, watching Patti skip off and her sister follow her elegantly. "That was weird."

"Sure was," Maka agreed, a slight smile on her lips.


	5. Chapter 5: Ride Home

**A/N: **Shameless fluff. I'm a bit happier with how this chapter turned out, but in the future, I may change the position of this chapter within the story. As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I am going on a three-month hiatus. I do have a lot more of this written, but I haven't linked all the parts of the story together yet.

But for now, enjoy!

* * *

"Do you always walk to and from school?" he asked suddenly one afternoon. They were in the library. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and it was getting late. Most of the people had left the library, but a few people were still scattered around. Soul had his music theory homework spread out on the table in front of him. He wasn't really doing it. He'd been working on a personal composition of his, but Maka insisted that he at least attempt to do his homework. Maka had asked Liz and Patti if they'd wanted to join them, but Liz had just given her an amused look and a short "Hell no." She and Patti had headed back to Kid's house, where they were currently residing.

Maka still lived with her father, but Soul lived in an apartment by himself. His family didn't live in Nevada, and Wes had moved out after graduation. His apartment was two minutes from the school, but he often walked to the convenience store, which was about halfway to Maka's house. Halfway usually took about 15 minutes, meaning she walked half an hour to and from school every day. Maka didn't mind, though. She enjoyed the walk, in the early morning where Death City's inhabitants were just rising. It almost felt like a different world.

Maka looked up from her theory textbook. "Usually, yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Well," he said. "I was wondering if you wanted a lift, maybe."

"A lift? On wh-" her expression changed from one of confusion to one of annoyance. "Soul, are you suggesting I get on that death trap of yours? Is it at school?"

"It's not a death trap," he sighed. "You'd be fine."

She laughed. "Yeah. If by fine you mean _in a coma_."

"You're being a drama queen, Maka." He stretched his arms over his head, letting his joints pop. He precariously leant back onto the back legs of his chair, attempting to stretch his stiff joints after spending the whole afternoon there. He sat back in his seat, and began cracking his knuckles, one by one.

"Well, excuse me, Evans. I can't risk being injured. And don't even get me started on what my dad would think."

He smirked. "Coward."

"I am _not_ a coward!" she said, a little too loudly. A girl sitting on the table opposite them threw them an irritated look, and Maka waved apologetically. She then turned back to Soul, her expression twisting into a scowl.

"C'mon, Maka. The library's just about closed anyway." As if to emphasise his point, the librarian began to approach the remaining students and asking them to return the books they were using.

"Fine," She agreed, knowing she'd just look like a scaredy-cat if she refused. "But if I die, I swear it's your fault."

Soul grinned, ear to ear. "Alright, Albarn. Let's go, then." He picked up the sheets of paper and stuffed them into a tatty exercise book, and threw them into his bag. Maka took her time, delicately folding paper and sliding them into plastic sheets in a folder. Exasperated, he waited for her.

"You're worried about my motorcycle killing you," he said eventually. "Your slowness will kill us before we even get to the damn motorcycle."

She shot him a menacing look. "I'm just organised. Unlike you."

"Fine," he said. "I'll wait outside, then."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Maka was at the bottom of the school steps. She scanned the car park for the bright orange of his motorcycle, and found it easily. There weren't many cars left in the parking lot, anyway.

Soul was leaning against the motorcycle, his hand in his pockets. His floppy white hair was held back by a yellow headband, something that only Soul could pull off. He caught sight of her, and flashed her another grin, showing rows of unusually pointed teeth.

"Finally," he said, shifting his weight to his feet. He swung his leg over the bike, straddling the seat. He patted the seat behind him. "Hop on."

Maka's expression remained dubious, and she hesitated before approaching the bike. She slung her bag across her body, so she wouldn't lose it while they were driving. She followed his example and swung her leg over the bike. She sat right on the back of the seat, gripping the seat in front of her with her hands. She wasn't sure if she should touch him or not.

Soul turned his head to look at her. "Maka, you're going to fall off sitting like that."

"No, I won't," she said stubbornly. "I'm fine like this."

"Suit yourself." Soul turned the key in the ignition, and the bike roared to life. Maka jumped at the sound, but didn't release her grip. Slowly, the bike inched forward, and Maka realised her grip wasn't as strong as she thought. She was thrown forwards into Soul's back, and reflexively grabbed a handful of his clothes in each hand to steady herself. Soul smirked when he heard her gasp. He took this as a sign that it was safe to speed up now. He turned out of the car park, and started down the straight stretch of road that led out of the school.

It took all of Maka's willpower not to scream. She had her eyes shut tightly, and was gripping onto Soul so tightly that her knuckles turned white. After a while, though, her pounding heart began to calm, and she got used to the bouncing of the motorcycle. She cracked her eyes opened.

They were moving _fast_. It was harder to tell with her eyes closed, but at the rate the trees and colourful house of Death City were whipping past, she knew. It gave her a rush of adrenaline, moving this quickly. She straightened her back a little so she could see better. She found herself enjoying the wind as it whipped through her pigtails, enjoying the blur of scenery around her. She tilted her head up to the sky, which was beginning to darken. The air was cooler, but she didn't mind it so much. It contrasted starkly with the warmth emanating from Soul.

Maka decided this wasn't such a bad idea. She lived by the rules. She liked the rules. In ballet, you followed the rules. It was comforting, to know the standard of what you had to achieve. She knew exactly what she had to do. Breaking the rules was something she avoided; mainly from fear. But this…was incredibly liberating. This whole friendship with Soul was breaking the rules.

The ride ended too quickly. Maka felt as if she had only just gotten on, but she knew it had been about fifteen minutes since they'd left the school. Soul began to slow down and curve closer to the curb, inserting the bike between two cars with ease.

"Okay, Maka. You can let go now." He said, prying her fingers off his shirt. "We're here."

Gingerly, she got off the bike, smoothing out her skirt and swinging her bag to the side so she could walk easily. Soul started to get off the bike too, but she stopped him.

"Probably not a good idea," she said, embarrassed. "If my father sees you, he'll kill you. "You don't want to make a bad impression on someone who might give you a job in the future."

"Oh," he said, settling back down on the bike. "Right. Yeah, probably don't wanna do that."

She walked up to the steps in front of her house, and then turned to face him. "So, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Maka."

She put her key in the door, and pushed it open. She turned quickly, standing in the doorway. She watched Soul drive off, and she wondered what he was going home to.


	6. Chapter 6: Moving In

**A/N: **Same as before, not entirely happy with this. Will probably make some changes later, but for now, here's another chapter. I just wanted to post this one because it links to the next chapter, and I'm pretty happy with that one :)

* * *

"You're such a pervert, Soul."

"Hey," he said defensively. "I just tell it like it is, Tiny Tits."

She frowned at him, and then stuck her nose in the air. "That's a good thing. I'm a ballerina."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She glared at him for a moment. Maka could never stay mad at him for long – and she knew he was only joking, anyway. She liked the kind of relationship they had, the back-and-forth banter that wasn't insulting at all, but in fact, the complete opposite.

It was a warm day; probably the last of the season. Many of the students at Shibusen Performing Arts had cottoned on to this, and were making full use of their lunch breaks by basking in the sun. Autumn had definitely started later this year, and everyone was sad to see the hot Nevada days melt into something cooler.

Maka and Soul were sitting under a large tree, which branches reached overhead them like fingers desperately reaching for something. Maka leaned back on her arms and glanced up at these branches, which warm spring light sprinkled through, the leaves of which were silhouetted darkly against. A warm breeze started up, one which Maka relished. She had ditched her school blazer and yellow vest, and was sitting with her legs crossed in nothing but her blouse, tartan skirt and green school tie.

Soul, on the other hand, had lay down beside her, his hands crossed behind his head. His eyes were shut and he seemed to be sleeping. He hadn't even taken off his black leather jacket – a blatant violation of the school dress code, but nobody had ever told him off for it.

"So," said Soul. "How's your father dearest?"

Maka sighed.

"The same," she sighed. "I can barely stand living with him."

"You could move into the dorms here," Soul suggested.

"I've thought of that before," she admitted. "But, when I applied this year, they told me the dorms were completely full."

Soul cracked an eye open to look at her. "You could come live with me if you want." He said casually. Soul realised what it sounded like as soon as he'd said it, and cursed himself for not thinking properly.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Soul Eater Evans, you really are a pervert."

He sat up, meeting her gaze. "I'm serious, Maka," he said. "My apartment has two bedrooms and it's pretty big and everything. My parents take care of the bills and rent and stuff, so you don't have to worry about that."

"It'd just be for convenience?"

"Yeah," he said. "We both go to the same school. It's not weird or anything. Other people do it too, you know. Liz and Patti live with Kid."

Maka thought for a moment. Living with Soul…she knew anything was preferable to living with her obsessive father and the glaring absence of her mother.

"I guess it is closer to the school and stuff," she admitted. "I could get more hours in at the studio."

"Cool," he said. "Well, think about it if you want."

* * *

"Maaaaaaaakaaaaaaa!" Spirit sobbed. "Maka, my baby, how could you do this to your loving Papa!?"

"Papa," she sighed. "You're being dramatic."

Maka had finally decided that she'd had enough of her overbearing father, and had accepted Soul's offer of living arrangements. Soul, much to his dismay, had been dragged along. Sprit, as expected, had not taken the news well.

"MAAAAAAKAAA!"

"Dad, all children move out eventually."

"Mr Albarn," Soul interjected. "It's probably for the best. It's closer to the school."

Spirit stopped wailing for a moment. "You," he said, turning his attention away from his daughter. "You're taking my baby away from me! You better not try anything funny!"

Maka looked incredulous. "That's a bit rich coming from _you_."

"Yeah," Soul agreed. "Anyway, look at her. As if anyone could find her tiny tits attractive."

"Are you saying my daughter isn't attractive? Go on, BE A MAN!"

"MAKA CHOP!"

Maka had her hands on her hips and her eyebrows were raised disapprovingly. "Between the two of you, I wonder how I haven't spontaneously combusted from being around so much stupidity."

Spirit wailed from the floor.

"Papa," she continued, holding her chin up stubbornly. "I am going to move closer to Shibusen."

"What would you mother say?"

She shook her head. "Seriously, Papa, I have a pretty good idea of what she might say. C'mon, Soul, we're going."

Maka unceremoniously began to drag Soul from her father's office, leaving Spirit wailing behind them.

"Well," said Soul. "That went better than expected."


	7. Chapter 7: Dancing

**A/N: **This was one of the first things I ever wrote for this story, so I've been working on it for a while. I tend to write in chunks and then string them all together, and as a result, I have actually written a lot for this story, but it's just not connected. I do have a lot more planned for this story, and a lot of improvements in mind. I will be back in three months! Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Soul was confused. She'd always met him just outside the school entrance to walk home together, except on Tuesdays, because she had tap class. Today was Wednesday, he was pretty sure. Her last class was Performance, and he'd seen the other students in her class exit already. Most of them had begun to recognise him, and threw him dirty looks. He was a scruffy student not from their faction, and was always hanging around Maka Albarn – two things which they hated.

It had been nearly thirty minutes since she'd been supposed to meet him. Curious, he headed back inside the school.

The inside of the school was filled with sounds, the sounds of music, of dancing, and voices. He wasn't really surprised by this, and it was something, initially, he'd found the quietness quite frustrating. But now, he found it almost comforting. But when he came to Maka's studio, he was surprised. It was quiet.

She was in there by herself. She was dancing.

Soul had never seen her dance before. She was standing in the middle of the room, staring at herself in the mirror. She was alone; not even Liz and Patti had stayed behind to practice with her. Fixing her posture and taking deep breaths, she _degage_ her foot _derriere_, lifted her arms into third, and _plied_, and begun to turn. She was whipping around unbelievably quickly, _fouette_ing with a hard, steely determination in her eyes as she spotted herself in the mirror.

However, the movement seemed stiff, and her leg too bent, and she was barely able to get around twice before she fell out of the turn. She stumbled, rubbing her bridge of her nose, like she always did when she was irritated. She seemed angry at herself as she shook out her arms and legs, as if she were willing herself not to cry. Her strict bun had come loose, pins flying out as she'd turned. Angrily, she tore at the flimsy net and sharp pins, tossing them onto the floor. Her ashy blonde hair fell over her shoulders, like a curtain.

She looked at herself in the mirror again, and began to dance.

Soul had never seen anything quite like it, the way she danced. Raw and unpolished, her leg slightly turned in here, her shoulder too high there, but it had a uniquity to it that could only be Maka. He didn't know whether she was improvising, or just dancing something she knew, but he was mesmerised. The line of her arms, the rolling of her shoulder bones, the agility and quickness of her feet; and how they never missed exactly where they supposed to go. Where she'd told them to go.

She wasn't watching herself anymore, but following the line of her arms. _Balonce, glissard, pas de chat, ton le vay_ – she didn't have to watch herself anymore. He could see the expression bleed through her eyes, through her fingers. It seemed effortless, not heavy or unnatural.

Finally, she began to slow down, and prepared herself to turn. Quickly, she whipped around in a flawless _pirouette_, and then, she began to _fouette_ again.

One, two, three. And a fourth.

Then she stumbled. But she smiled to herself – it was an improvement.

She looked up to the clock, her chest heaving, lungs gasping for air. Her hair clung to her face, which was sticky with sweat. Her face was bright red from exertion. Soul could see through the glass viewing panel her eyes that widened, and how she rushed to her bag, tossing her things inside it. She straightened up, looking up through the glass panel, and seeing his slightly awestruck face. Her expression changed to one of surprise. She approached the door, and twisted the handle open.

"Soul," she said breathily, her eyes widening. "How long have you been there?"

"Uh," he coughed, bringing him out of his reverie. He didn't meet her eyes, and instead focused on digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I just came to look for you…"

"Oh, yeah," she said, sitting on the ground next to him, and began untying the ribbons of her pointe shoes. She did it with such a practiced hand, deftly unwinding them from around her ankles. "Sorry about that. I didn't see the time."

"So, uh," Soul began. "Was that for something?"

"No," she said. She reached for the small flowery bag she kept her shoes in, and slid the hard satin shoes inside it, and pulled the drawstring tightly. Once she was satisfied with it, she threw them in her bag. "That was nothing. Just practicing some turns."

"Right." He said. Maka stood, pulling her red tartan skirt and school blazer over her black leotard and salmon-pink stockings.

"Okay," she said, zipping up her bag. "Are we going?"

The walk home seemed fairly normal. They chatted about school and what they'd have for dinner. But Soul couldn't help but think of what he'd just witnessed. Something was bugging him; and it took him all through dinner to figure it out.

It came to him when he was washing the dishes. It'd been his turn to clean and Maka's turn to cook.

Maka wasn't like another of the other dancers at Shibusen. She had drive, motivation; and still had time to improve in areas where she lacked. And he knew she would. He knew she would work as much as she could, even for the slightest of improvements. This was a quality he admired in her; and he knew it was something he didn't see in himself. Although, he had begun to feel _something_ - he always wanted to impress her. He always wanted to be the best he could. He realised they brought out the best in each other.

He smiled to himself as he scrubbed the dishes. They had a long way to go, but it was something he was looking forward to.


	8. SNEAK PEEK!

**A/N: **Ah I felt so bad having all this stuff not posted, so I've complied a couple of scenes that I've been writing for this story. When I come back in three months, a lot will change, and there's still a lot to go. I am still including Black Star, Tsubaki, Kid, Liz and Patti; and probably a few other characters; but these bits are all about Maka and Soul. Here's a sneak peek at what's to come! Enjoy!

* * *

Maka lay on her back, closing her eyes. Her hair was spread around her, and she was twirling a strand of it lazily with one finger.

"Why don't you just quit?" he asked her.

She sighed. "I've thought about it so many times," she said eventually. "But…in all the times when I'm not dancing, my body just feels wrong."

"I think…I dance because I don't know how not to dance. As much as it hurts, as much pain as it puts me through, I can't imagine not dancing."

"Yeah," he said. "I know what you mean. It's like… even though you're tired of all the judgment, of all the criticism, you just don't know how to be anybody else."

* * *

"I'm impressed," she said, lifting herself up onto the bench. "You're actually doing work."

He shook his head, looking at her from around his sheet music. "I don't know why you're in here."

She shrugged. "Because I felt like it."

"I can't play with you distracting me, Maka."

"Soul, stop making up excuses. You actually need to practice."

"Fine," he said, rearranging the papers in front of him. "_Mum_."

"Soul."

"Alright, alright! Calm your tiny tits." He took a deep breath and placed his fingers on the keys and began to play.

She could immediately understand why people would dislike his music. It was _different_.

But she liked it. She stopped swinging her legs against the wall and shut her eyes. She could hear him in the complication of notes, the way they overlapped each other in strange combinations, in ways nobody would think of except for Soul. She could feel the sounds deep in her soul, resonating with her. Almost as if he was playing exactly what was on his mind.

* * *

_After practice for the school production. _

Maka ran back through the wings and onto the stage, heading toward the further wing.

"Soul, I'm sorry, I was just talking to –"

"It's cool, Maka." His voice sounded lazy, as if he was thinking about something else.

He was standing in the centre of the stage, looking out onto the rows and rows of red seats.

"Whatcha looking at?" she asked him. She kept walking towards him, but stopped at his side, turning to face the stage. And then she saw what he saw.

Maka had been in a lot of performances in her life. She'd been on a lot of different stages. But this stage felt so different. It felt grand, and wide: empty, as if it were waiting to be filled with something. She didn't know what that something was, but it filled her with hollowness. Not the bad kind, though. The type of hollowness that a long, open straight stretch of road gives you; the same way you feel gazing at the stars. You feel small, and excited for a future that's full of possibilities. Anything could happen.

"Hey, Maka," he said eventually, breaking her train of thought. "Wait here."

She didn't say anything, but just watched him position himself at the piano that had been wheeled onto the stage for today's rehearsal. Usually, it'd be in the orchestral pit, but it was difficult to see when they needed to start and stop during rehearsals from the pit. He started to play.

It wasn't a song she'd heard before, but it was one she'd be able to recognise in any context. It was his.

Maka didn't know when she started moving, or how her body knew what to do without her mind guiding it. She could feel the pain and tiredness in her muscles melt away beneath her as they began to warm up.

And there she was, just her, the stage, and Soul.

She hadn't felt this kind of thoughtless joy very often in her life, and it made her feel so light and airy. Like that in this moment, all of her fears melted away, all of her tiredness. It was moments like these that we strived so hard for. It was in search of moments like this that they'd both subconsciously come to Shibusen for.

Soul watched her dance. The music he played was muscle memory to him, and she was so captivating. This was the kind of the person he knew. While she'd danced beautifully in rehearsal, this was just so much more _Maka_.

So he lost himself in the music and in Maka.

And he too, felt a sort of thoughtless joy.

He was almost sad when he realised the piece was slowing down, that it was ending. Maka seemed to sense it as well, because that's when she began to _fouette_.

One, two, three. A fourth. A fifth.

Soul lost count.

Maka landed softly, her arms in demi-bras, breathing deeply. Neither of them said anything for a while, and the room returned to its previous silence. Soul faced away from Maka, gazing out over the rows of seats again.

"Well," said Maka, clearing her throat. "Guess we better get going."

"Yeah," Soul agreed eventually, standing. He picked his bag up off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. He turned away from her, heading towards the stage exit.

"Hey, Soul," Maka called out.

He stopped, but didn't turn to look at her.

"You're wrong."

"Wrong?"

"You do belong here."

He smiled to himself.

"So do you, Maka."

And it was with Soul at her side that took the anxiety of the unknown away.

* * *

Soul could smell her clean scent in the sheets. He could smell it before he even walked into the room. And he wondered if it was normal for someone to have such a strong scent, and one that made his heart beat so much faster. He wondered if it were normal for him to bury his face in the pillows and press the sheets closer to his face, just so he could pretend she was there with him. He could feel her fingers in his hair and lightly tracing his skin, which left a trail of goose bumps, but also warmed him down to the bone. He could feel her touch lingering for hours after she'd let go.

Soul was unsure if this was a blessing or a curse. You often heard that love was so easy and breezy, like everything just made sense when you found it. Soul disagreed – it had only made him more confused, more lost. It kind of felt like he was happy about stabbing himself in the eye repeatedly. Or being Maka-chopped. It really, really sucked. You had to learn to love and trust while still being a whole person yourself. And he knew that it could go horribly wrong. He decided that he didn't really care how it ended. He cared about Maka – he really, truly did. But he had to be rational, and not emotional; because that's always where it went wrong.

But how could anybody be rational about this?

That was what made him afraid, more than anything. Messing it up.


End file.
